Tag Archives: fear

Nov1

The Spirit of Fear

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The Spirit of Fear

It’s Halloween at midnight. I’m just home from work but not yet in bed because I have to make sure there’s a fire going or I’ll be too cold to sleep. If there is a moon tonight, you can’t tell by looking outside. I’m surrounded by a dark forest beneath a dark sky. The only sound is the slow crackling of the wood and the occasional whine from Bella by the door. She think she has to go out. One glance out into the dark night around us and I’m confident she does not.

It’s a perfect time to think about fear.

I am afraid of a lot of things. I’m afraid of scary movies and of being alone in the woods. I’m afraid of the dark and of intruders and psychopaths. These fears make sense to me. Most of them I’ve acquired over the years, by watching movies and tv, by reading the news and novels, and through the stories of friends and family.

Then there are the fears I have because of my own vivid imagination. I’m afraid of stairs sometimes, certain something is behind me. I’m afraid of closets at night if I don’t check them thoroughly first. I’m afraid of unfinished basements and spiders and of walking in my sleep.

And then there are the ones that I just can’t comprehend, the ingrained fears that, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to move away from.

I’m afraid of getting fat. I’m afraid of being boring. I’m afraid I’m never going to accomplish what people expect from me, or what I was meant to achieve. I’m afraid I’m never going to even know what either of those things are. I’m afraid that if I ever have kids I’ll be a bad mom, and if I never have kids I’ll regret it. I’m afraid of losing what I’ve gained. I’m afraid of getting old. I’m afraid to disappoint. I’m afraid that I’m never going to be truly, really happy and, that, even if I were, I wouldn’t know what it was.

I’m afraid of going to Hell.

I’m afraid I’m never going to stop being afraid.

It seems to me that we weren’t meant to be this afraid all of the time, that there’s a scripture that says just that very thing. It seems that, if I believe what I say I believe, and if I have faith, then even when I’m still afraid I can be hopeful; I can know that I’m in midst of a process and fear just means I haven’t yet arrived.

And when I start to think things like that, I know that God is still with me and that what I hear is His still, small voice.

And then I’m just a little bit less afraid.

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.
1 Timothy 1:7

May23

Biting off more than I can chew

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Biting off more than I can chew

“Restoration doesn’t necessarily mean making things the way they were, sometimes it means making things the way they’re supposed to be.” Jill Lillis

If I haven’t had much to say lately, it’s because I’m pretty soundly confused much of the time and, out of my as-of-yet-to-be conquered fear of a poor public opinion, I’ve made this blog more about essays on revelations I’ve grasped and vague ramblings on the things I haven’t rather than anything at all about an actual journey to wholeness.

The truth of my journey at the moment is that, from all outward appearances, I seem to have entirely lost the path and, from an inward perspective, I still seem to be very much on it.

I warned you I was confused.

I’ve made a series of decisions over the last year that have come with some consequences to be certain. The first was last March, when I began socially drinking. The second was in December when I entered into an intimate relationship with a fantastic guy who happens to not be a Christian.

Have you gasped and moved on yet? This post is not meant to be about me and alcohol so I’ll not make it, but I will say, for those who I imagine are concerned, I am fine and balanced and, for the most part, not “prone to drunkenness” as the Bible warns against. Now that it’s out, I’m sure there will be more on that later.

Now then, I wish I’d been writing truthfully about these things all along, about all of it. The last year has been one of both incredible highs and lows. I’ve failed in some areas deeply and, in that, learned valuable lessons. In other areas I’ve pushed past opinion and bias and broken through legalism in a way that I’d only talked about in theory previously. As an aside from the point here (if indeed I even have one), I’ll offer that the steps one must take in order to truly step outside of religion and legalism are not at all pleasant and tend to be not at all popular.

One of the primary consequences of my decisions is that I am no longer singing in church and with church groups. Again, this is not about that, though I’m sure another post one day will be. The circumstances in which that consequence came about was handled poorly and dealt to me painfully and caused a divide between me and the church I call home.

And, in short, that’s where I am today.

Today in church, during the worship service, I was meditating on how unfulfilled my life feels when God is not the very center of it. (I’m often meditating on missing the wholeness of God during worship services as I still only feel my truest and deepest self with Him in music and I can only feel like I am sharing in His heart fully when I am singing for others to find it.) I stood and sang, quietly, and wondered what if I could go back to the way things were? What if I could undo the decisions that had put me on the outside of a intimate group and take my place once more?

My journal from this moment reads:

“I cannot stand to be this far from God. And yet, here in church, I look around, and I cannot bear the thought of plugging back into this. It is so hollow. Accomplishing nothing. Self-focused. Empty. Is this my choice?! Is this what I should give up a life I love for? I cannot stand the idea of it. I don’t want anything that isn’t true and authentic and effective. What shall I do, God? Where shall I go?!”

And then that services worship leader, Jill Lillis’ words are written there, as if God were answering me without a moments hesitation, “Restoration doesn’t necessarily mean making things the way they were, sometimes it means making things the way they’re supposed to be.”

This evening I called a dear (and wise) friend. My intention in making the call was to tell her about a great sale I’d been to that day and encourage her to go shopping for herself. We ended up discussing this topic instead for an impassioned hour.

While she’s also one of my best friends, she apologized to me, as the ministry leader for more than one of the ministries I was formerly involved in, for not seeing me for who (and where) I actually was, for expecting more out of me than I was mature enough or ready to give and for giving me too much leadership too soon. I don’t hold her responsible, of course, for this separation I feel now, but her words brought some comfort and some confirmation. I’d been feeling, months ago, like I’d made a grievous mistake in not being completely genuine when I first began to attend my church home; feeling like I’d been more interested in portraying the proper image to what I felt was the suspect church eye, than in authenticating who I was to God and He to me. I was so focused on proving to my family (first and foremost) and to my new church family that I wasn’t the same old Seana, that I wasn’t that ‘rehab kid’, that I was committed to God and to my future with Him, that I lost sight of my actual relationship. I began to act the part instead of living the truth and what was true and good (that I am not the ‘same old Seana’ and that I am committed and in love with God) began to become corrupted from within.

And then, when I began to demand of myself that I be genuine before I be well-esteemed my outwardly seeming perfect peace began to crumble. In my dedication to playing a role, I had not paid careful enough attention to my very foundation.

My friend, in her wisdom, also said on the phone tonight that she feels like I’m where God intends me to be right now, that in and through this, I am finding my authenticity with Him.

I’d like to think when all is said is done I’ll not only be alive in Him and Him in me but I’ll have stumbled upon the place where He intends me to be relevant to His as-of-yet unchurched people.

And so, here I am. Lost in the thickets of daily revelations, out of sight from the main path but certain it’s just around every corner. I have a suspicion, however, that by the time I find the main path again, God won’t have me traveling it any longer. I have a sneaking feeling that I’m not going to be walking the popular path for a good long while to come.

After the last couple of months, a big part of me kind of hopes not.

As a final thought, I apologize to my readers for not being more forthcoming prior to this and for not chronicling with better truth the journey I promised to share. I’ll be more mindful (and less afraid) in the future.

Sep6

Epiphany (one): I’ve been judging you.

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  So, if, as mentioned in the previous post, I have a lot to say and I haven’t been saying it, there must be a reason, right? That foundational starting place is, of course, Epiphany 1. Even now, with barely a thought to page and my head clouded with the words to come I’d like to skip this part and go straight on to what it all means to me and to the idea of identity as a whole. Once again I’m reminded, one can’t share the truth without exposing the process.

 Epiphany 1: I’ve been judging you.

 I’ve been locked in a cyclical process: identifying myself-now as myself-then; realizing such; over-correcting the issue; realizing such; and correcting my way full circle through a slow slide all the way back to identifying myself incorrectly. Without fail the process always starts when I am untrue about who I am, when, within any of my circles of reality or spheres of influence, I am not wholly myself. To go further here would be to introduce Epiphany 2 and skip over the rest of Epiphany 1 (tempting) so I’ll say no more about it just now.

 What does any of that have to do with me unfairly judging you?

 I’ve been not saying anything about the struggle of my process, keeping quiet about the fullness of who I am out of fear that I would lose precious friendships if I were unabashedly me. I’ve tiptoed the balance beam over popular opinion and fear of man so long that I find myself with friends who do not know me and at war with my very self.

 I war against judgment and believe in acceptance of a person for humanity’s sake without regard to the how and why of their life and lifestyle. It’s true that change is a beautiful and necessary part of growth and redemption and true liberation, but it would be wrong to allow any perception I may have of how you should or could change affect whether or not I can embrace you for who you are in your today. I have not extended that grace to myself.

 The truth of the matter is, I have as much right to be wholly me as you have to be wholly you. The larger truth is that I have no reason to believe that you don’t agree with me on that. I’ve been so quick to assume that you are judging me that I haven’t given you the chance to prove that you’re not.

 I’ve been judging you by assuming what your reaction would be to me if I let you know all facets of who I am. I’ve been judging myself harshly through your eyes and not giving you the opportunity to prove me wrong. Most regrettably, I’ve been keeping pieces of myself from you because of the assumptions I’ve been living in.

 My irrational fear of your potential judgment has kept a wall between us that was never meant to be there.

 There is, of course, good news – that my eyes have been opened to how I’ve allowed my misconceptions to color my person is a remarkable epiphany and, once realized, not easily ignored. I may not be entirely wrong, as I begin this journey to being wholly me in every circle I travel, I may indeed find myself facing judgment and misinterpretation. I suppose that is a bridge I’ll cross when I come to it.

 If my choice is to be entirely me and, perhaps, lose a few friendships or to keep all of my friendships at the cost of being myself, I’ll choose the former. In the meantime, I’m sorry for judging you, I’m going to work hard to keep it from happening again.

Jul22

Letting go (have no fear)

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Letting go (have no fear)

Fear is the great crippler of our generation. Fear that the things that have been promised to us are not real, that the Promised Land is filled with giants too formidable to be slain afterall. There is, in this generation, a pattern of those we have trusted over-promising and under-delivering. Looking around we are convinced that no one is telling us the truth.

It carries into every area of our lives, including our relationship with God. We raise battle fists into the air. “Surrender! Surrender! Let go!” we cry as our fingers close tighter around those things we, ourselves, hide. (how i long for a church where judgement is the greatest of all sins and no one feels too ashamed to taste grace) While the allure of perfect peace and joy are tempting; in this age of free 30 day trials we want a taste before we buy.

God isn’t having any of it. He’s old school that way. From an era where promises meant something and life was all or nothing. And so we damn ourselves to limbo while He watches us perplexed.

With one hand we reach toward God and the idea of the real, lasting fulfillment that we’re told He offers – Sunday morning services and the latest Christian rock CD. We do as much as we can manage without signing any commitments. We take notes to sermons we only half hear and remember to thank God if things go well.

In our other hand we hold those things we call Plan B. A night or two out with the girls or the guys seeking anything but Christ, the relationship we know is poisoning us from the inside out, whatever those things may be that, in Sunday circles (division born of judgement), we don’t talk about or reference. And oh, how we know the illusion of their allure. There is no at-last peace and assurity in these things we cling so stubbornly to – but there is something. There is something that, for the moment or two we are engaged, makes us not alone, not afraid. “It isn’t what I want”, we reason, “but it’s what I’ve got and there’s no point in letting go until I’m sure of this something better.”

I wish I could scream from the mountaintops the truth instead of the lies we are believing; the depth of our illusion and the reality of His promise. All of our self-loathing, insecurity, fear, shame, loneliness – all of it – everything – gone!

There is one moment. One terrifying moment, that seems to steal our very breath, is the cost of living in the middle of the certainty – the peace and joy everyone wants and no one seems to get. There is one fraction of time where, no matter who you are and what your story, your fear will battle you hard and only the purposeful exercise of your will can push you through.

It comes with the letting go.

You have to believe that even if everyone else you’ve ever met is a liar, God is not. Even if no one has ever truly, deeply loved you, God does. If everyone else has eventually left, hurt you and let you down, God has not.

He stands in the exact same place He’s always stood, offering the exact same thing He’s always offered, available in the exact same way it’s always been available. Whatever it is you want out of life – whatever it is you truly desire, without exception – He’s waiting to give it to you.

It comes with the letting go because He’s prepared to fill both hands.

“…the one who doubts is like the surf of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind. For that man ought not to expect that he will receive anything from the Lord, being a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways.” James 1:8 (NAS)

double-minded (adj) – wavering or undecided in mind

*While I don’t often reference my own experience in musings such as these, I feel this time I should. I hurt for our generation and the lies we have believed. I can stand with assurity behind the things I say because I live them. Life is rarely perfect, the cost of a fallen world. Still, I stand today with peace unlike any I have ever known with a joy that defies circumstance. Letting go of all that I held onto made the difference in my life between fitting in and stepping aside. I am always available to share my story as proof of what God can and has done. Please believe me when I tell you that those things you are seeking are so readily available – if only you trust. You don’t have to feel alone or afraid anymore.

(originally written 03/29/09)